Elaborate Lives
by Blonde Songbird
Summary: “Christine, do quit crying. It will make that beautiful face of yours exceptionally red.” He declared distantly, still staring at the piano keys. One chapter song-phic :-) EC Phluff Please, R&R!


A/N: Yes, another song phic – but it's not Wicked! It's Aida! OOOOOH! A new one :-) hehe. It's written to the song, "Elaborate Lives". Please R&R, and I promise I haven't forgotten about my other phics. Lyrics are in italics, as usual :-)  
  
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Christine took a seat at her vanity, combing through her mass of golden curls. She had just completed another voice lesson with Erik, and for some strange reason, things had been rather tense today. Perhaps, she had been distant; come to think of it, her thoughts had been wandering throughout the lesson. However, it also seemed as if his had been as well. Carelessly dropping the comb on the dresser, she stared at the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy, matching well with her scarlet lips. Golden-blonde ringlets cascaded from her head, gently resting on her pallid shoulders and framing her face. Swallowing, she glanced down at her crimson dress. Christine's azure eyes sparkled with innocence and something else she couldn't quite identify. Suddenly, she shivered, rising from her seat. A heavenly sound traveled through the air, making its way to her, seeming as if it were merely a soft caress in her ear. Her eyes broadened as she emerged from her bedroom, the music leading her to... him. Shuffling into the Louis-Phillipe room, her eyes settled on the sight of her teacher, lost in his music.  
  
Erik sat at the piano, his fingers sliding up and down the keys gracefully. Emitting a quiet sigh, he stiffened slightly as he felt a presence in the room. He stole a glance, relaxing a bit as he realized it was only Christine. A small smile painted itself on his twisted lips as he thought of her. She was so beautiful – so angelic. The smile quickly disappeared as he inwardly groaned. He loved her so much... Erik simply wished to keep her forever, but he knew he couldn't. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought of everything they had been through since he had brought her through the mirror. Yes, he had deceived her... Their relationship, if you could call it that, had begun with a lie. And as much as it pained him to say that, he knew it was true. One thing surprised Erik, and that was the fact that Christine did not hate him. They were complete opposites, and he had put her through a great deal, yet she did not loathe him. Frowning, he silently longed to live a different life with her; he desired to start anew, or to at least not have started with a lie.

_We all lead such elaborate lives  
  
Wild ambitions in our sights  
  
How an affair of the heart survives  
  
Days apart and hurried nights  
  
Seems quite unbelievable to me  
  
I don't want to live like that  
  
Seems quite unbelievable to me  
  
I don't want to love like that  
  
I just want our time to be  
  
Slower and gentler, wiser, free__   
  
_  
Christine tilted her head, curiously watching his movements. He probably didn't even notice that she had come into the room. In fact, he was most likely too engrossed in his music to notice. Chewing on her lip, she quietly took a seat on the divan. The girl wrung her hands, staring at Erik with great intensity, evidently contemplating something. Her lips turned downwards as she slumped her shoulders in defeat. She sighed, placing her chin in her hands. Christine wasn't quite sure how she felt about him. She felt rather guilty, for she believed she might have been confusing at times, displaying her mixed emotions to him. But she didn't need to tell him what she was feeling or how perplexed she was; everything was written in her eyes. Fear, anger, pain, pity, amity, joy, and concern – all of those diverse emotions decorated her face. Every so often, she would fear him greatly. Erik's temper terrified her to tears, causing her to tremble in horror and weep for hours in her room. His seductive and enticing ways made her shiver for a reason she wasn't sure of. Then, his gentleness and affection filled her with warmth and made her forget all the fright she felt for him. With a frustrated sigh, she closed her eyes tightly. She just wanted to quit having these dissimilar and confusing feelings. She was downright sick of it._We all live in extravagant times  
  
Playing games we can't all win  
  
Unintended emotional crimes  
  
Take some out, take others in  
  
I'm so tired of all were going through  
  
I don't want to live like that_

_  
_  
Erik's playing gradually came to an end as his slender fingers rested on the keys. Slowly withdrawing his hands from the piano, he placed them on his knee. The only sound that could now be heard in the room was the soft sound of Christine's breathing. He held his breath, restraining himself from turning around and taking her into his arms. Why did they have to be so different? Why couldn't they be together? Yes, he knew they were together in the same room, but he wished for her to love him. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her...

_I'm so tired of all were going through  
  
I don't want to love like that  
  
I just want to be with you  
  
Now and forever, peaceful, true_

_  
  
_ She remained frozen on the settee, dropping her hands to her lap. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at him. A realization smacked her callously in the face. Did she... did she love him? Christine had always known there was this unknown feeling she had for him that was locked deep down inside of her; she had never recognized it as love – platonic love, perhaps, but never... romantic.  
  
He could feel the anxiety in the room; he could tell she was tense and evidently thinking about something. His lips twitched as he suppressed himself from proclaiming his love for her. He couldn't tell her now. Not with her Viscomte in the way... Rolling his eyes, he glared at the keys.  
  
_Precious darling Raoul_... Erik thought silently, his thoughts dripping with sarcasm.  
  
He would tell her soon. In fact, he was determined to do so. He sighed as he slowly stood. He would wait forever for Christine. Keeping his eyes on the black and white keys, he sighed.

_This may not be the moment  
  
To tell you face to face  
  
But I could wait forever  
  
For the perfect time and place__   
  
_  
"Do you need something, Christine?" Erik inquired listlessly, stroking a few keys before retreating from the piano.  
  
"No." She replied softly, returning her unsteady gaze to her hands. "I just... wanted to hear you play. That's all."  
  
Staring at the floor for a moment, he pushed the piano bench under his beloved instrument before turning on his heel. He was met with her blank face.  
  
"Would you like to come here for dinner tonight, Christine?" He asked quietly, slight hope glistening in his eyes.  
  
Christine's eyes expanded as she bit her lip. She couldn't. She was meeting Raoul for dinner tonight. Holding her breath, the girl contemplated on what to say. She couldn't inform Erik of her date with Raoul. That would undoubtedly liberate his temper. So, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"I'm sorry, Erik, I can't." She answered, making the mistake of stuttering and hesitating the process, "I-I... I have plans with Meg tonight."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, he studied her facial expression and his eyes befell her hands that were now wringing each other again. Suspicion arose in him as her faltering words made their way to his ears.  
  
As his blazing eyes rested on her, she couldn't help but feel a bit awkward... He glided towards her in that seductive, graceful way that made Christine tremble. Swallowing, she held her breath as she watched him approach her. Erik leaned over the girl, causing her to sink back further into the chair. His warm breath passed over her now-pallid face, placing his hands on the arms of the chair. Their faces were a mere inch apart as his hazel eyes bore into her, seeming as if they could see directly into her soul. At first, Christine felt as if she were floating on a cloud, surprised that she would be excited by the fact that he might kiss her, for he was close enough to do so. Now, she believed he was reading her thoughts; this made Christine unbelievingly nervous.  
  
_We all lead such elaborate lives  
  
We don't know whose words are true  
  
Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives  
  
Hard to know who's loving who  
_  
"Erik..." She whispered, unable to remove her gaze from his blazing eyes.  
  
"Christine..." He replied impassively. "You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"  
  
She shook her head stiffly, a thin line painted on her lips. "N-no, of course, n-not, Erik."  
  
The Phantom leaned even closer, where their faces were a centimeter away from touching. "Of course, not." He echoed with a detached calmness, his voice never wavering. "You wouldn't be seeing the Viscomte, would you, my dear?"  
  
_Too many choices tear us apart  
  
I don't want to live like that  
  
Too many choices tear us apart  
  
I don't want to love like that  
_  
"You said I could never see him." Christine stated, still wringing her hands.  
  
Abruptly grabbing her hands to cease their constant movement, Erik emitted a deep chuckle. "I know I said that, but you're avoiding the question, my dear."  
  
This comment was met with nothing but silence.  
  
Clutching her hands tighter, he narrowed his eyes, now pushing her further into the back of soft divan. She was obviously trembling, but he gave no thought to that.  
  
"Erik, it's _just_ dinner." She immediately sputtered out.  
  
"Ah, so you are meeting him."  
  
"Yes..." She murmured, averting her eyes elsewhere.  
  
"Look at me, Christine." Releasing her hands and grasping her chin, Erik turned her head back towards him. "Why lie to me if it's _just_ dinner?"  
  
"I thought you would be angry." She responded, her voice quivering.  
  
"Angry? _Me_? Why, my dear, are you suggesting I have a temper?" He sarcastically questioned, never moving from his position, which only added to the girl's anxiety.  
  
Christine parted her lips to speak, but closed them again, repeating this process a few times. She was at a loss of words. Did he truly wish her to answer that?  
  
"I -"  
  
Erik rolled his eyes at her perplexed expression, withdrawing himself from her. "That was rhetorical, my dear."  
  
Her cheeks blazed hotly, rising up from the seat rapidly before he could pin her in that position again. "Well, how was I supposed to know that, Erik? I can never tell what you want from me! It confuses me to no end!" Stomping her foot, she crossed her arms. "Stop treating me as if I were a silly child!"  
  
He lifted an eyebrow at this outburst, smirking. "I would if you would quit proving yourself to be one."  
  
Swallowing, she glared at him, huffing exasperatedly. "I don't care what you say! I'll go to dinner with Raoul whether you approve or not - I'll go anywhere I wish!"  
  
A deadly silence filled the room, and Christine instantly regretted shouting that.  
  
"I see." He said icily.  
  
The tone of his voice caused her skin to crawl and her face to become as white as a sheet. Gradually backing away, she attempted to make her way to her room, in order to lock it before his temper could explode.  
  
He watched her as she slowly retreated, as if she believed she could find safety in her room. Laughing to himself, he shook his head. Christine thought she was being strong and defiant, but she was merely digging herself into a deep hole.  
  
The girl dashed for her room, only to be stopped by Erik's arms. Slamming her door shut so she couldn't slip her way in there, he clutched her arms.  
  
"You amuse me." He laughed, this laugh causing goose bumps to appear all over Christine's body. "You really do, my dear."  
  
Her terrified eyes stared up at him, as her hands vainly pried at his fingers that were wrapped around her arms.  
  
He stared at her, hissing, "Fine, meet your damned little Viscomte for dinner tonight. Enjoy his company while you can."  
  
Releasing her, he returned to the piano, creating violent and furious music. Gasping, she scurried after him, re-entering the room.  
  
"Erik, what do you mean 'while you can'?" She pleaded for an answer, as well as the Viscomte's life. "Please, don't hurt him. I'll... I-I'll quit seeing him. J-just, please, don't hurt him!" When she received no reply, she began to sob, helpless tears trailing her cheeks. "Erik!"  
  
His music slowed, but did not stop altogether as he spoke. "Christine, do quit crying. It will make that beautiful face of yours exceptionally red." He declared distantly, still staring at the piano keys.  
  
Sniffling, she glared at him before turning sharply on her heel. She then unexpectedly twisted her ankle the wrong way, the pain causing her to plummet to the ground with an upset cry. Instinctively, Erik jumped up from the piano, abandoning his music and rushed to Christine.  
  
"You foolish child." He sighed, scooping her up and lying her down on the settee. Retrieving something to envelop her ankle in, Erik returned in a few fleeting seconds, taking a seat beside her uneasy form.  
  
"I'm not a child." She repeated softly, her eyes locked on the ankle he was tending to.  
  
His lips remaining a grim line, not one word escaped his mouth. Christine's gaze wandered from her ankle to his masked face.  
  
"I'm sorry." She whispered the apology, blinking back more tears.  
  
"For what?" Erik retorted, running his hand gracefully over her ankle, making sure that it wasn't swelling.  
  
Shivering at his touch, she quietly watched as he wrapped her ankle tightly. "For..." Christine paused, locking her eyes with his. "For acting like a child."  
  
Finishing with her ankle, Erik's gaze settled on her tear-streaked face as he stood, walking towards where her head lay. He leaned over her, making it so their faces were exceedingly close.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
"Yes?" He sighed, believing she would comment on how uncomfortable she was.  
  
"Kiss me." She murmured breathlessly.  
  
As shocked as he was, Erik claimed her perfect lips gently. The kiss lasted a few seconds before he slowly pulled away.  
  
"Christine," He began, softly pushing a golden curl from her cheek. "I love you."  
  
"I know." Christine said, her voice barely audible.  
  
Closing his eyes, he stood, shame sweeping over him. He was not even graced with an "I love you" in response.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
His footsteps came to a halt, and he looked over his shoulder.  
  
"I love you, too."

He smiled gently under the mask, as he continued to walk towards his piano.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"What time do you want me to be here for dinner?"  
  
_I just want to touch your heart  
  
May this confession  
  
Be the start_

__

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_**FINIS.**_


End file.
